I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

Sketch a diary in autumn frost
leave behind a sorrow lost.
A night beneath whispering stars and
listen to their voices afar
for they may drift in colossal numbers
yet their words speak -
the words of the wise
and the words of the weak
for there lies a thousand wishes
so hopeful in brindled streaks

And at last they remain -
captured by the stars,
but freed from the night.

gd

but yes, i could
smile at you like an electric fence, could
**** myself over in
a field of happiness, resemblant,
there i stand,
on fire or just waking.

of course, neither of
us needs that, though. my
motions jar and disseminate truth
throughout me:
of foundation stone, or
of necessary monuments i
am hardly built, i
cut breath, breakfast and no class, i
can fall under a bus or
in love with you,

and the dull ache would remain;

and these days would still part.
and some small town would sleep,
all the same. so say
anything, or just idle and
stay and i'll go spiralling
down all the same.

never trust a writer
because their words
flung into the air
in a whisper
a scream
or dropped
scrawled
in silence
on the emptiness
of a forgotten stillhouette
has the power
to lead you astray

never trust a writer
because they find beauty
in everything
especially sadness
amd the grey
grey sky
that falls at your feet
along the shadow
of your heart
the one you beg
for them to break
to make you
whole

never trust a writer
because they don't always
trust the words
that tumble from their own
perfect lips
they say them for
their beauty
in the sound
in the silence
they say them
for the way they rhyme
with 'forever'

never trust a writer
because he can capture
your soul
with just a look
holding you
the entire universe
and all eternity

never trust a writer
because they may talk
awake
but they dream with their eyes
open
and closed
simultaneously
and you can never
be sure
which character they have chosen
for you
which character
they have chosen to be
to you

never trust a writer
because their emotions
not always visible
always
consume them
like a strike of lightening
cold
burning
inside

never trust a writer
because they always
know
what you want to hear
and what they really
want to say

never trust a writer
because their knowledge of love
is as infinite
as the emptiness
in the black sky
stars
moments of clarity
that create an atlas
of who
they fall for

never trust a writer
because normal in life
is never normal
in their dreams
and they always
last longer

never trust a writer
because 'I'll love you for now'
sounds better
when they say it
as 'I'll love you
forever'

never trust a writer
because I swear
they do not believe
in the emptiness
of promises
and they will let you
break their souls
just to see
what happens after